


None Given

by da_petty



Series: Den of Iniquities [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BAMF John Watson, Brothels, Champagne, Drunk Sex, First Time Bottoming, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, I regret nothing!!, I'm sure that there are other tags but they escape me at the moment, It's only Irene Adler heavy in the first chapter., Light Bondage, Lube, M/M, Phobias, Pretend Non Con, Prostitute John Watson, Sexual Fantasy, There's a fuck ton of fluff is what I'm saying, i was sleep deprived when i wrote this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 00:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16315298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/da_petty/pseuds/da_petty
Summary: Sherlock is in complete control of his transport - except for one thing and it's become an obsession.Irene Adler runs a high end brothel with male prostitutes, catering to the upper classes (i.e. RICH). She's Sherlock's last ditch effort at overcoming his phobia against being penetrated.Paging Doctor Watson, former Captain in Her Majesty's Armed Forces, now hooker with a heart of gold.





	1. I Dare You

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the honest to god truth:
> 
> I stayed up all night writing this. I mean, I couldn't stop and I don't know if any of it makes sense because I didn't even review it once! I'm sure I'll regret posting it in the morning and then I'll obsessively edit it online.
> 
> I wrote this instead of writing the final chapter of Festival of Colors. What can I say? I was possessed.
> 
> Not Brit-picked, not even alpha'd, much less beta'd. Read what might turn out to be a sloppy mess at your own risk. Apologies for fic of questionable quality, in advance.

Sherlock stood outside contemplating his latest visit to Irene Adler’s upscale brothel. Black cards only, dear.

It was his sixth visit and he was feeling a bit frustrated. Oh, not from lack of sex. On the contrary, he’d fucked someone every time he’d been there but it was never satisfying. 

Sherlock had had plenty of anal sex in his life but only as a giver, never as a receiver. He was still a virgin in that area and he desperately wanted to lose said virginity but not really.

The problem was he didn’t like the idea of being penetrated. He’d tried with other men before but couldn’t get past the symbolism of another man dominating him - even if only sexually. 

He had control of his mind and his body, being only transport, had betrayed him by interfering every time he was close to success but he’d come up with a surefire way to get past this - he’d thought. Now, five times later, this was going to be his last attempt. He’d just chalk it up to a failed experiment and then stew over that failure for years. That’s what happened on the rare occasion that something refused be deleted or stay behind the ‘Do Not Enter’ door of his mind palace and it was unacceptable.

And so it was with a rare defeatist attitude that he walked up to the front door and knocked. 

The door was immediately, but not hurriedly, opened by a woman in a sharp navy pin-striped dress modeled after the style of men’s suits, right down to the tie.

Sherlock could see, in a clinical way, that the woman was attractive however, he felt not even a hint of interest and this brothel only catered to prominent gay men holding important positions in jobs where homosexuality was not only frowned upon but could lose an election should anyone find out.

Irene’s business was discrete; hidden behind the facade of an image consulting firm catering to men in the upper echelons of London. And while the occasional woman utilized Mistress Adler’s services, all brothel workers were men. There were women on the staff but they handled the business side of things. Finances, scheduling, and medical. 

Bareback was not allowed here, although Irene had everyone tested regularly - a bartering system arranged with one of their customers in the medical field - if she found out that you’d had any sort of sex, anal or oral, without the use of a condom, out you went with your bags hitting you on the sidewalk as you lay there stunned and wondering what the hell had happened. No one thought they’d get caught but most toed the line. She didn’t have the patience for employees who would endanger their health, the client’s health, and most importantly, her bottom line. She was very, very comfortable and she intended to stay that way. 

Irene looked up from viewing an accounting report on her iPad and saw Sherlock Holmes standing by the counter, waiting for an escort to his latest…what? Victim? Test case? He had a very specific request and although she had a large male staff on hand, he’d been through a third of them already. It was becoming more and more difficult each visit to take him as a client. They’d seen the bruises, blackened eyes, and sprained wrists that a session with Sherlock Holmes could cost them both physically and financially and determined that it was too costly ton continue. The majority had come to the conclusion that it wasn’t worth the money to try and satisfy the insatiable, and it was a lot of money. However, she never forced anyone to take a client. Irene felt that your work should be pleasurable, otherwise why bother?

Clients weren’t declined often and had, so far, had no effect to her establishment’s reputation or her bottom line. So long as everyone paid for their rooms as well as a percentage of their income per client, her employees were pretty much left to their own devices. She wasn’t a pimp and should someone compare her to one, even in jest, they were no longer a customer. She was a business woman and sex sells. That was a fact.

Irene herself rarely took a client unless there was something about them that she found irresistible. And even then, she only entertained women now. She’d done her time pandering to male vanity while coming up in the business and once she’d started to feel resentful and bitter, she’d stopped seeing men altogether. But Sherlock? He was different. It didn’t hurt that he was androgynous, beautiful, and sexy as hell. She found him irresistible but the feeling, other than a mutual respect - he appreciated her as an intellectual equal - were not returned. His tendencies didn’t lean that way and there was nothing that would persuade him otherwise. And she’d really tried. Pity. 

When Sherlock had first started patronizing her establishment, he’d given Irene a list of what he was looking for and it was very specific. At the time, she thought that maybe one or two visits and Sherlock would be satisfied, but she should have known better. Here he was on visit number six and he always left unhappy. Irene was fairly certain that if tonight proved to be a disappointment as well, Sherlock would no longer come here and she’d be forced to go back to stalking him via text. Not very satisfying considering the fact that she knew he read them but rarely responded. She felt certain that she’d be able succeed in fulfilling his fantasy where others had failed…if only she had a cock. That in itself was an indication of how much she wanted to fuck Sherlock Holmes. She’d never felt even the slightly inkling of penis envy before but as soon as he'd walked into the door and rejected her advances, all she could think about was bending him over and dominating him with the largest cock available. 

She gave a shiver and told herself to stop thinking about this. It was pointless and frustrating. She’d see if Olivia would be able to take a break from their finances so that Irene could work out her unrequited lust for Sherlock. Olivia was always hinting around that she was available to the Mistress any time, any day, anywhere. Today was almost definitely going to be that day.

She caught Sherlock’s eye and they both began walking towards each other, meeting in the middle of the sitting room. Sherlock got right to the point, as was his way. It was refreshing, actually. All the niceties put aside and getting down to business right away. She’d normally never allow herself to lower her defenses long enough to make it a cold business transaction. 

She prided herself on her ability to sense what a man was looking for and playing the part to entice him to ‘treat’ himself. They all loved that one. They could be the biggest arsehole in London but they’d still believe that they weren’t able to 'relax and enjoy' themselves with their wives/mistresses. They deserved to be pampered. They 'owed it' to themselves. Men were so easy to manipulate that it wasn’t a challenge anymore. Until Sherlock had appeared at her door dressed as a reverend. He’d taken her breath away in that moment and had never given it back.

“Mistress Adler,” Sherlock said by way of greeting.

“Please. Let’s not stand on ceremony. We’re friends by now, aren’t we? Call me Irene,” she said holding her delicate hand out to shake his.

“Yes. I believe that we’ve shared enough adventures together to be on a first name basis. I wasn’t sure what the protocol was here so I maintained a professional distance. Keeping work and pleasure separated,” he said, taking her hand in his and turning her palm up to place an electric kiss on her wrist.

“I wish you’d let me have my way with you, Sherlock. I know that I could satisfy you. Let me know if you change your mind,” she added before he could reject her again.

“I will take that under advisement.”

She gave him a sultry gaze taking him in from his Italian handmade shoes to his artfully mussed curly black hair and bit her lip. Yes. Olivia was going to be occupied tonight. 

“Same as usual?” She asked.

“Yes but I’m afraid that this will be my last attempt unless things can end to my satisfaction.”

“Which is just as well because you’ve winnowed my staff down to just one man who is willing to fulfill your fantasy. Actually, he’s looking forward to it.”

“The first three men seemed fine with the arrangement,” Sherlock said.

“That was when they thought that they had a chance of besting you. By the end of the third visit, the last two volunteered as part of a dare. Normally, I wouldn’t be so frank with a customer but we’re friends and I know that we both appreciate honesty in our collaborations.”

“Indeed. In fact, I insist upon it. So, a “dare” you said?”

“Yes. Honestly, the last employee only followed through because he’d dared number four to give it a go. Unfortunately, his trade was that, should number four be unsuccessful, he was up next. Not negotiable.”

“And he lost. I see. Tell me a little bit about the man who thinks that he can best me. Why haven’t I seen him before?”

“He’s very popular with the youngish clients. They want a father figure to dominate them and he fills the bill completely. It’s actually difficult to get on his schedule but he’d heard that you’d be coming in this week and volunteers were sorely lacking. He loves a challenge.”

“Well, today is his lucky day. Shall we go?” Sherlock gestured with one hand towards the winding staircase.

Irene nodded and without a word, began leading Sherlock to his latest, possibly last, intimate encounter with one of her staff.

They walked down the long hallway, Irene stopping at the third door on the left and giving it a sharp rap. The door was immediately opened by a man with sandy blond hair that had gone completely white in the front. Sherlock sized him up in an instant.

“Sherlock, this is John Watson. I’m sure that you’ll have a pleasurable night. Champagne is on the house, a chilled bottle is being sent up as we speak. Enjoy yourselves gentlemen,” she said, turning to leave.

“Thank you, Irene,” they both said simultaneously. They laughed, breaking the tension that first meetings of such a delicate nature seem to entail.

“Welcome, Sherlock. I know you’ll enjoy your stay with us.”

John gestured for Sherlock to enter his rooms, closing the door with a soft ‘snick’ behind him.


	2. It's All Transport

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two guys walk into a brothel...use your imagination. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me repeat: I wrote this all in one go. I have not reread it but I hope for the best. If there are errors - and I'm sure there are - no sense complaining about them because this story is all a blur and I probably won't know what you're talking about.
> 
> Having said all that: I still hope you like it. :D

Sherlock set about hanging up his jacket and rolling up his shirt sleeves. Kicking off his shoes but keeping his socks on, he said,

“I assume that you’ve been informed of my request?”

“Yes,” John said, removing his dress shirt and kicking his shoes off as well. 

“And you think that you’ll be able to succeed where so many others have failed?”

“Absolutely,” John said with a smile.

“You’re awfully confident.”

“I’m awfully good.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” said Sherlock.

“Any rules that I should be aware of?” John asked.

“None at all. You?”

“None. I’m more concerned about you though. You’ve never been bested before. The first time might be a bit tough on your ego.”

“You’re awfully sure of yourself.”

“I’m awfully good at my job which you will no longer question five minutes in.”

“Five minutes? Really? I doubt that,” Sherlock laughed.

“I can be very convincing, Sherlock.”

“Did you get that confidence serving in the military? Afghanistan or Iraq?”

John, who had been shifting on the balls of his feet, preparing his attack, suddenly stood stock still, giving Sherlock an angry glare.

“How do you know that? These transactions are business only, you don’t need to worry about anything else. Did Irene tell you that?”

“No. Your body told me that. Military bearing, tan at the neck and wrists. You’ve obviously been invalided out - against your will - recently. And a doctor too? Interesting.”

“Ok. That’s enough. Let's get back to business.” John said, gritting his teeth.

“Oh yes, let’s,” Sherlock said sarcastically.

“I know what you’re trying to do.”

“And what would that be, pray tell?”

“You’re trying to get me to lose my temper so I’ll make a mistake but it won’t work. I’m very disciplined. You won’t get to me but I’m flattered that you tried.”

“And I was successful, judging by your clenched jaw.”

“We haven’t started the game yet. Once we start, anything you say, other than your safe word, will be ignored. I will beat you, Sherlock.”

“I hope that you win but I’m not optimistic. I’ve never been beaten before.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” John replied.

“Not for me. Not in a very long time.”

“Let’s go over the rules before we start.”

“Didn’t Irene go over all this with you? She should have. I dislike repeating myself, even if it’s to two separate people.”

“Oh, I’m aware of your request but it’s very unusual and I wouldn’t want any misunderstandings between us.”

“That seems reasonable. What would you like to know?”

“You’re interested in receiving anal sex.”

“I’m interested in letting you try to penetrate me.”

“Have you ever had anal sex before?”

“Given but never received.”

“So, you’re a virgin.”

“Technically my rectum is untouched so if we’re going by that definition, then I am most definitely a virgin,” Sherlock replied matter of factly.

“But your fantasy is to be penetrated,” John stated.

“No. It’s not.”

“And this is exactly why we’re going over this. I was told that you wanted to be penetrated. Is that not the case?”

“It would be more accurate to say that I feel that it’s a phobia that I need to overcome. Many have tried, none have succeeded, some are still in hospital.”

“I see. So…that brings us to force.”

“Exactly. I will not be penetrated willingly. You will have to take me against my will and, I’m sorry, but I don’t have much faith in your ability to get the job done.”

“Don’t be sorry. I neither want nor need your faith in me to accomplish a mission. I will take you and you will thank me for it.”

“I don’t think so,” Sherlock laughed.

“Think what you like, it won’t affect the outcome,” John stated matter of factly. 

“In that, we agree. You know what the forfeit is, yes?”

“Fuck or be fucked. Seems simple enough.” 

“That is the basic idea. Could be violent.”

“God, I hope so. Safe word, please.”

“I won’t need a safe word,” Sherlock said pompously.

“Just humor me. On the one in a million chance that I can pin you and fuck you, give me your safe word.”

“Those statistics are grossly exaggerated.”

“Safe word, Sherlock. What’s wrong? Afraid you’ll lose? Don’t be nervous. It won’t hurt. Much,” John taunted.

“Fine. Aubergine. That’s my safe word. This is the only time you’ll ever hear me say it though so cherish the memory.”

“Oh, I will. Trust me. I’m cherishing it already.”

“I have to say that you’re taking defeat much better than I’d expect from a military man.”

“I’ll have you begging for mercy in no time.”

“I never beg.”

“You will.”

“I expect no quarter.”

“None will be given. Ready?” And John sprang into action, kicking Sherlock’s feet from underneath him and pinning him to the floor.

“Well, well, well. Not even five minutes in and I’ve already pinned you. With ease, I might add. Surrender?”

“Never!” Sherlock burst up, using his forearms to force John to let him go. He then flipped him over and John now found himself pinned to the floor. He was grinning.

“Oh, this is going to be fun! A real contest. I rarely meet anyone who is my equal in hand to hand combat,” John panted and smiled.

“I have no equal,” Sherlock said, flipping John onto his stomach and pinning one arm behind his back.

“That’s true. You’ve just met your better,” John said, heaving himself up with his free arm while slamming backwards into Sherlock’s chest, knocking him off balance. A lamp suddenly fell to the floor shattering on impact. They both froze and looked at each other.

“I do hope that wasn’t irreplaceable,” Sherlock said. 

“Don’t worry about it. You good for it,” said John, following through with original attack and forcing Sherlock down on his back.

They both lay there, out of breath, Sherlock’s back on the floor, John’s back on Sherlock.

“Had enough?” John asked.

“Not by half!” Sherlock wrapped his muscular thighs around John’s waist and squeezed, cutting off John’s breath.

“Oh, playing dirty,” John wheezed, “I didn’t know that was an option.” John threw an elbow back, nailing Sherlock between the ribs.

“Looks like you’re losing in the most injured category. And you cheat! I’m very disappointed in you. Disappointed but very happy.”

“Why are you…happy?” Sherlock asked, clearly winded.

“Because that means that all bets are off and I can cheat too!” John said, flipping Sherlock onto his stomach.

John reached under the bed and pulled out a thick set of Velcro handcuffs.

“I was going to fight fair and square but you had to go and cheat,” John said, forcing first one arm and then the other behind Sherlock’s back strapping him tightly. Turning, he straddled Sherlock’s waist, quickly immobilizing his thighs followed immediately by his ankles.

“I always wanted to be a cowboy,” John said, smacking Sherlock’s arse sharply.

“And stop struggling. You lost fair and square.”

“You cheated!” Sherlock yelled, trying to buck John off of his back while simultaneously working on escaping the Velcro. 

“You cheated first,” John said, smacking Sherlock’s arse again and standing up. “Don’t be such a child. Accept defeat.”

“I let you catch me!” Sherlock exclaimed.

“Is that so?” John said, crouching down to look into Sherlock’s sweaty, red face.

“I’m lulling you into a false sense of security!”

“Really?” John smiled.

“Really. I can escape anytime I’d like.”

“Can you escape now? I’ll wait,” John said, letting his legs give out and sitting on the floor next to Sherlock to watch.

Sherlock struggled and panted for ten minutes, all without success.

“Thirsty?” John said, grabbing a bottle of water off the nightstand. 

“Would it make you feel better if I said that I was thirsty?” Sherlock asked, annoyed.

“Sure. Oh. When did that get here?” John had turned and caught the big bottle of champaign chilling in a bucket on bureau.

“That’s so nice! Let’s have that, shall we? Well, water first. Wouldn’t want you to get dehydrated.” John said, using the ties holding Sherlock’s wrists together to pull him up.

“Ow! Ow! The fuck are you trying to do? Break my arms?!” Sherlock yelled.

“Oops. Sorry. Here, help me stand you up so that I can sit you on the bed. We’re going to end up there anyway.” John laughed.

“You’re going to have to take these off of me if you intend to fuck me. Or were you planning to just…MRFF!”

“That’s it. Don’t get yourself all excited. Have some water and cool down,” John said, tipping the bottle up forcing more water into Sherlock.

Sherlock turned away from the bottle and spat.

“I don’t want any water! MRFF!!”

“What was that? Can’t hear you. My goodness, you’re thirstier than I thought,” John said, tipping the bottle up to empty the rest of the water into Sherlock’s mouth.

Throwing the bottle across the room, John picked up a napkin from the end table and blotted Sherlock’s lips.

“Is that…yes. It is. That’s steam pouring off of your head. My, my. So angry! Ah, ah, ah! No head butting. That’s not nice.” John reached down and grabbing the wraps around Sherlock’s ankles, maneuvered him into a sitting position against the headboard.

“Here. Let me fluff those pillows behind you so that you’re nice and comfy.” John made a great show of patting the pillows into shape and placing them behind Sherlock’s back.

“OW! Rude!” Yelled John, rubbing his cheek.

“Oh. Did you hit yourself on my head while I was trying to get comfortable? I’m soooo sorry,” Sherlock said, a wicked grin on his face which was followed swiftly by a pillow knocking his head back.

“There. Even! Now for the champaign,” John said, walking over to fill two glasses, returning to sit beside Sherlock on the bed,

“Don’t want any,” Sherlock sulked.

“Come on. Don’t be like that! Have a drink,” John said, holding the glass up to Sherlock’s lips which he stubbornly refused to open.

“Have it your way,” John said, holding Sherlock’s nose closed until he opened his mouth and emptied the entire glass in one measured pour.

“I don’t drink!” Sherlock sputtered.

John stopped in the act of pouring another glass, becoming serious for a moment.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t know that you were an alcoholic! It wasn’t on your paperwork. I apologize.”

“Mmm mmrrmrr,” Sherlock mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”

“I said, I’m not a bloody alcoholic. It’s not my kind of high. It’s not that I can’t drink, I just don’t,” Sherlock got out between clenched teeth.

“Oh! What a relief! You’re not allergic or anything, are you? Actually, I guess we’d already have known that by now. So…you can drink then?” John asked.

“Yes. Just don’t want to,” Sherlock ground out.

“Here’s the thing though. I’m about to fuck you and as we both know, it’s your first time AND you don’t even want it, so that’s bound to be uncomfortable. The champaign will help relax you. Will you drink some more? I’m only thinking of you.” John said sincerely.

“Sounds like complete shite to me,” said Sherlock.

“I’m not going to make you drink if you truly don’t want any.” John set the glass down.

“Fine. I’ll have some. I shouldn’t have let you win.”

“You keep telling yourself that. Now, open up!” John said, tipping the glass into Sherlock’s mouth.

***

Fifteen minutes later…

“Well, that’s the end of that,” John said, turning the empty champaign bottle upside down in the bucket.

“How are you feeling, Sherlock?”

“Fine. I’m fine. I’m not drunk.” Sherlock said belligerently. 

John took in Sherlock’s flushed and sweaty face, and slouched position against the headboard and said, “Of course you’re not.”

“Wha…what are you doing?” Sherlock asked.

“Taking off my clothes, unless you’d rather I fuck you whilst wearing them. I wouldn’t recommend that for a first time though.” John waited to see if Sherlock would say anything but he just remained stubbornly silent so he continued removing his clothes until he was completely naked.

“Like what you see?” John asked when he caught Sherlock staring open mouthed.

“Oh, yeah. That,” John said gesturing to his rock hard and incredibly large cock.

“Not what I’d normally recommend for a first time but, well, beggars can’t be choosers,” John said walking to stand by the side of the bed.

“That’s not going to work,” Sherlock stuttered.

“Sure it will,” John assured him.

“Nope. Nope. That’s not going to fit. I release you from our contract!” Sherlock said magnanimously. 

“Are you safe wording out? I won’t force myself on you outside of the game. Are you done then?” John asked, feeling incredibly disappointed for some reason.

“No! I’m not safe wording out! I’m more than capable of, of,” Sherlock nodded at John’s cock with his head, “taking all of that! What are you waiting for? Stick it in me and get it over with so I can go home.”

“No. I will not just “stick it” in you. I want you to enjoy this. I’m very good at my job, Sherlock. You might walk funny when you leave but it’ll be a satisfied walk. Trust me.” John said.

“Fine. Your gonna have to untie me first to get my trousers off,” Sherlock said trying to look innocent.

“It’s ok. I can work around it,” John laughed. “Nice try, though,” John said bending over to undo Sherlock’s belt.

“You’re…you’re not even going to take my clothes off?!” Sherlock asked.

“Nope. Don’t need to. I just need access to your arse and your cock which are conveniently located in the same neighborhood,” John said, pulling the belt through the loops with a surprising snap and tossing it behind his back.

“Lift up a bit so that I can pull these pesky trousers and pants down.”

Sherlock cooperated, reluctantly lifting his arse off of the mattress to give John better access.

“There, much better,” John said, admiring his handiwork. Sherlock’s pants and trousers now rolled down and stuffed beneath the Velcro strap holding his thighs together.

“You seem gifted with a good sized cock yourself. I almost wish I’d let you win. Almost. 

I really would have liked to have faced you for your first time but we have a problem; you can’t be trusted so, over you go!” John said as he grabbed the wrist and thigh straps, pulled him away from the headboard and pushed him onto his stomach.

“Can you breathe ok?” John asked.

“Yesh,” Sherlock said, spitting a curl out of his mouth.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be ok.”

“I’m not worried! Why do you keep saying that?!” 

Running a finger tip along Sherlock’s thigh, he said, “You’re shaking. It’s ok to be nervous.”

“I am NOT nervous! Just get on with it!”

“Last chance. Do you want to use your safe word?”

Sherlock gave him a steely glare but remained stubbornly silent.

“Phew. Good. To lose an arse as fine as this one,” and here John slapped Sherlock’s left cheek, “would have depressed me no end.”


	3. The Cock Thickens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody gets busy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't done any editing or rereading this whatsoever. Blah, blah, blah. I hope you like it despite it's obvious lack of polish.

John placed one hand on Sherlock tight bottom and reached over to fish the bottle of lube out of the nightstand drawer.

Getting on his knees beside Sherlock, John pushed up his expensive dress shirt and began trailing kisses down his spine and ending with a soft kiss at the beginning of his cleft.

Kissing his way back up, John stopped to nibble on Sherlock’s ear and neck causing him to moan. John had thought he was hard before but that moan just about did him in and he grabbed his own cock, squeezing it tightly and ordering it to not go off prematurely.

Grabbing a pillow from the headboard, John lifted Sherlock up and placed it under his hips so that he’d have easier access to his prize. And a prize it was, indeed.

Getting on the bed, John straddled Sherlock’s hips and eased his way down the back of his thighs and stopping at Sherlock’s knees.

“This arse is too lovely to just fuck right away. This requires finesses. All that to say that you’re arse is gorgeous and I’m going to fuck your hole with my tongue until you’re begging me to fuck you.” John waited a moment to give Sherlock time to say ‘I don’t beg’ but he was silent, watching John with those amazing aquamarine eyes.

“Have you ever had your arse eaten? I’m assuming not since you haven’t let a cock in there but I could be wrong. Am I?” John asked.

“No,” Sherlock said.

“‘No’ what?”

“No, I’ve never had my arse eaten before.”

“It’s just a huge night of firsts for you all around, isn’t it?” John asked, pinching one of Sherlock’s cheeks.

“Oh. God…” Sherlock moaned.

“I’m sorry, I should have asked; may I eat your arse, Sherlock?”

“Yes. God, yes. Do it!” Sherlock moaned, grinding his erection into the pillow beneath him.

“Ah, ah, ah. Don’t come until I say so,” John said, smacking his arse again.

“I won’t. I won’t…” Sherlock sighed.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Good.”

Spreading Sherlock’s cheeks, John gave a kiss to each one on either side, he traced his way to Sherlock’s hole with his tongue. Upon reaching his destination, he began placing butterfly kisses directly on his hole interspersed with lightly sucking at the edges. 

Once he certain that Sherlock was completely lost, he thrust his tongue inside and then leisurely began licking him out. Sherlock’s moans were making him even harder. John was fairly certain that there was no blood flow to his brain at the moment and he didn’t care. 

He didn’t want this night to ever end. There was something about this man. He felt as if he’d known him forever. This didn’t feel like business which was worrisome because he had no idea if Sherlock felt the same way. Not that he’d ask!

Without taking his attention away from what he was doing, John slid his hand up and grabbed the lube that he’d placed within reach earlier. 

Lifting his head, he said, “Sherlock?”

“Hmmm?’

“I have a serious question for you. Are you listening?”

“Ummm…yessss…”

“I’d like to remove the Velcro from your thighs and ankles so that I can reach all of your wonderful nooks and crannies.” John asked, popping the cap on the lube with his thumb and applying it liberally to his fingers. Putting the lube down, he asked again,

“Sherlock? If I untie you, will you promise to behave?” John asked, slowly inserting his index finger into Sherlock’s hole.

When there was no answer from Sherlock, he added a second finger causing a quick intake of breath from Sherlock.

“Are you paying attention?” John asked, seeking out and unerringly finding Sherlock’s prostate. He brushed lightly against it. One time. Two times. On the third time, he removed his fingers completely and waiting.

“John. John. What are you doing? More. I need more.”

“Answer my question,” John touched his prostate again, “Can I trust you to behave yourself if I untie you?” Then he added a third finger, paused, and wait for an answer.

“Yes! God, yes! John. Anything. Anything you want!’ Sherlock gasped out. “Just, fuck me some more, please?” Sherlock asked, wiggling his hips for emphasis.

“Are you…are you begging me to fuck you Sherlock?” John asked.

“Yes!”

“You admit that you lost fair and square. That you didn’t throw the game?” John pumped Sherlock’s hole a few more times, waiting.

“I…yes…I lost…fair and…fair and…OH…square.”

“And I can trust you to stay where you are if I untie you?”

“Haven’t I said yes a million times already? YES! Do it! Don’t do it! I don’t care, just don’t stop fucking me! I need it. I want you inside me so badly. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I need your cock. I want to feel you rip me in two. Please. I’m begging you. Fuck me!”

John’s cock had begun leaking sometime around Sherlock’s “anything you want” moan and he knew without a doubt that he needed to have his cock embraced by Sherlock’s tight heat. John removed his fingers and;

The sound of Velcro being removed was jarring in the relative quiet of the room but neither man noticed or, if they did, cared.

Once Sherlock was free and tried to subtly shake the pins and needles out of his limbs, John was pulling him towards him using his hips as guides.

“Hands and knees, sweetheart,” John said watching Sherlock obediently move until he was on all fours, arse to John’s cock.

He couldn’t resist sliding his cock along Sherlock’s well lubed cleft before he picked up the bottle of lube again and added more to his fingers.

“John. John, what are you doing? I need you to fuck me.” Sherlock said, rocking back against John’s cock.

“Wait. Just wait. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me. I don’t care! I want you now…AH!!” Sherlock sighed as he felt four fingers enter him, pushing himself back on them as John fucked him.

Withdrawing his fingers, John lubed up his cock and placed it against Sherlock’s hole.

“Be patient. Don’t back up. Just let me take care of you. Ok?”

“Ok. Ok.” Sherlock panted.

John began to slowly press forward until he’d breached Sherlock with the head of his cock. There was a sharp intake of breath.

“You ok? Am I hurting you?”

“Yes but it’s not as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Good. Good.” John placed his clean hand on Sherlock’s arse, holding him in place until he was firmly embedded within him, balls deep. He paused. 

“Still ok? Your breathing is kind of heavy.”

“Just. Just give me a moment to adjust.”

John held still, waiting for a sign that Sherlock was ready. 

“Ok. I think I’m good now,” Sherlock said with a wiggle of his arse on John’s cock.

“Stop! Stop! I’m going to come if you keep doing that!”

John eased out, and slid back picking up the pace on each thrust until he was pounding Sherlock into the headboard.

“Sorry. Sorry.”

“S’ok. Harder!”

John paused long enough to reach around and grab Sherlock’s cock with his lubed up hand.

Sliding his hand firmly down his shaft, John used Sherlock’s cock to pull him back against his hips. 

“John. Oh my god! I’m going to come. Fuck me! Harder! Harder!”

As John mercilessly continued pounding Sherlock, he could feel Sherlock’s orgasm approaching. His muscles were tightening up around, his cock throbbing in time with each thrust.

“John! I can’t hold it anymore! Come with me! Please! Can you come with me?”

Sherlock came forcefully, his hole milking John’s cock. John couldn’t have stopped himself if he’d tried. He’d never felt anything like this before. Sherlock’s muscle flexing around his cock, forcing him to come. It felt amazing and he knew that he wanted to have this man again as soon as possible.

After they were finished, John pulled Sherlock into him and settled them both on their sides. Sherlock turned his head back so that he could see John’s face and kiss him. He finally turned over and pulled John against him, kissing him passionately until they were both breathless.

John glanced over at the end table where he noticed that a condom sat, waiting to be used.

“Oh no,” John said.

“What is it?” Sherlock said, kissing the corner of his mouth.

“In the heat of the moment, I forgot to use a condom.”

“That’s ok. You’re clean, I’m clean. It’s fine.”

“You don’t understand. I just lost my job.”

“Oh,” Sherlock paused, then, “OH!”

“Too right and I was making good money here too not to mention the fact that I also live…lived here.” John sighed.

Sherlock smoothed John’s hair away from his brow and kissed him there.

“I could, um…I’m sure she’d make an exception if I asked.”

“No. Sooner or later someone would find out and then the gossip would be everywhere with people talking behind my back wanting to know why I got special treatment. Making snide remarks as I passed by. I don’t need the money that badly to put up with that kind of shite.”

“So…you’ll work somewhere else then?” Sherlock said, worriedly.

“Nah. There’s no place near as nice as this one. Irene protects her staff, keeps them safe. No health worries. Always paid on time. I’d never get that anywhere else. I guess that means I’m retired.”

“You could…you could work with me. I could use a doctor’s eyes on some of these cases. Really, you’d be doing me a favor. And there’s an unused bedroom in my flat just begging for a tenant. What do you think?”

“You’re the famous Consulting Detective, right?”

Sherlock puffed up a bit at that, “Yes. Yes I am and I could really use your help dealing with the imbeciles I’m surrounded by during a case.”

“Imbeciles? Are you talking about the cops at New Scotland Yard?”

“Indeed. Unless there’s a sign saying ‘He did it’ and pointing at the culprit, the NSY couldn’t detect their way out of a wet paper bag with a razor blade.”

John laughed at that image, then said, “Well, that’s worrisome.”

“It is indeed. And their chief forensic, and I use the term loosely, “expert” is an idiot who is more interested in shagging a co-worker than doing his job. I don’t understand why Lestrade keeps him on.” Sherlock ended in disgust.

“Lestrade?”

“He’s the DI in charge of homicide. He’s quite good, actually but if you tell him I said that I’ll call you a liar. His first name is ‘Greg’ but I’ll never give him the satisfaction of acknowledging that. Keep that to yourself as well.”

“Ok.” John laughed.

“I have your room and you, until tomorrow morning. We’ll talk to Irene about the situation then. But, if you really wanted to stay, I’m sure…”

“I don’t.”

“Good! Good! That’s…great, actually,” Sherlock said practically giddy planning their lives ten years ahead.

“Slow down,” John laughed. We’ll get there.

“One problem.”

“What’s that?”

“My know it all, busy body brother.” Sherlock said, irritation clearly evident in his voice.

“What’s wrong with your brother?”

Just then, Sherlock’s a text which was announced by The Rolling Stones, Sympathy For the Devil.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear.” Sherlock said, reaching over to grab his mobile from the nightstand.

Glancing at his mobile, Sherlock snorted and tossed it to John.

John picked it up and read; 

***  
I hear that congratulations are in order. Can we expect a happy announcement some time in the near future?

MH  
***

“What’s he talking about?” 

“You. He’s talking about our future living arrangements and being a complete arse - as usual - about it.

“Wait. How can he know anything about us?”

“As part the British government, he keeps a tight grip on my whereabouts at any given moment. Wouldn’t want me to embarrass him…I’ll understand if you’ve changed your mind. I don’t want to be around him either but I can’t seem to escape.” Sherlock said bitterly.

“Sounds like a right arse. I’m in.” John grinned.

“Are you sure? Some of my cases can be dangerous.”

“Even better. When do we start?”

Sympathy For The Devil began playing again.

“That’s going to take some getting used to,” John said looking at Sherlock’s mobile.

“What’s he want now?” 

John tossed him the mobile.

***  
The spare bedroom in the flat will be ready for Doctor Watson’s use within the next two hours. He doesn’t seem the fashion plate type so the lack of closet space won’t bother him.

MH  
***  
“I hate him already,” John said.

Sympathy For The Devil begins playing again…

***  
I’m crushed. Whatever shall I do without your admiration and approval?

MH  
***

“He’s wasting time that would be better served elsewhere,” Sherlock said, giving John a sultry look.

“You’re right. Come here…”

Sympathy For The Devil begins playing…

“Just ignore it. I guarantee it’s useless information,” Sherlock said.

***  
And, for the love of God, use a condom this time!

MH


End file.
